


Sketchy Behavior

by The_Koira



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Koira/pseuds/The_Koira
Summary: Tony is particularly interested in one of Steve‘s drawings, so Steve decides to give him more of those.





	Sketchy Behavior

„What are you drawing?“

  
The question caused a minor heart attack. Steve had been so engrossed in his sketchpad and the accompanying daydreams that he hadn‘t heard the footsteps until Tony was already in the room and mere feet away from him.

  
„Sorry,“ Tony said, grimacing apologetically around a mouthful of sandwich. „Didn‘t mean to surprise you.“

  
„It‘s okay,“ Steve said, trying to discreetly tilt the pad further towards himself to make sure his drawing wasn‘t visible, „I should have heard you coming. I guess I was lost in thought.“

  
Tony hummed and sat down on the couch next to him, setting down the plate with the other half of his sandwich on the coffee table.  
Steve swallowed nervously and switched the sketchpad to his other hand on the further side from Tony, turning it face-down. „What are you doing here, anyway?“ he asked in an effort to distract his friend. „I thought you were in meetings all day.“

_I thought I was alone._

Tony shrugged and took another bite. „I skipped school, mom. Too boring if you know all of it already. What are you drawing?“

Damn it, Steve thought. He had hoped Tony had forgotten his initial question. „Nothing,“ he said. „But isn‘t the release of Starkpad 5 supposed to be next week and wasn‘t there an issue with the, uh, uplink of the camera software or something? Shouldn‘t you be there when they try to fix that?“

At this, Tony raised his eyebrows and a slow grin spread across his face. „Since when do you care about Starktech software?“

„Since you‘ve been talking about nothing else for a week,“ Steve retorted easily.

„Nu-uh,“ Tony said with a smirk. „Do you want to know what I think?“

„Uh… sure,“ Steve said, bewildered, thinking that at least Tony had forgotten about his sketching again.

„I think...“ Tony said slowly, putting his sandwich back on the plate, „I think you‘re trying to _hide your sketchpad._ “ He lunged across the couch so quickly that even superhuman reflexes were too slow. By the time Steve was aware of what had happened, Tony had already snatched the thing and jumped up from the couch with a triumphant grin.

„Got it!“

„Give it back,“ Steve said, slightly desperately. He was vividly reminded of his youth, when the bullies at school had taken one of his comic books, or a marble, or an apple, or whatever else he happened to be treasuring that day.

„In a minute,“ Tony waved a hand at him dismissively. „First let me see - ...oh.“

Steve set his jaw defiantly. He knew what Tony was seeing in the picture, but he could still hold out hope that Tony wasn‘t actually _seeing_ it.

It was a simple drawing of the two of them, Steve in uniform and Tony wearing his Iron Man armor with the faceplate up. Steve had his arm around his teammate‘s shoulders and they were grinning at each other. It was harmless enough (especially compared to so many of the other sketches Steve had drawn of the two of them over the years), but he was still afraid that his heart lay plainly on this piece of paper.

Several heartbeats passed in silence as Tony stared at the sketch and Steve‘s tactical mind was running through possible scenarios and possible responses to them.

„What do you want?“ Tony said breathlessly.

Steve blinked. That was a terribly loaded question. „Um.“

„For the drawing,“ Tony clarified. Was it Steve‘s imagination or were his ears going slightly pink?

„What?“ he said stupidly.

Tony blew out a breath as he waved the paper around distractedly, looking anywhere but at him. „I would like this. Would like to have this. If… if you can part with it.“

„Oh,“ Steve said. „Oh. Um. I…-“

„Please?“ Tony said, and damn but there was no way he could resist Tony Stark pleading.

„Sure,“ he said numbly. „Yeah, of course.“

Tony‘s smile was dazzling, if a little embarrassed. „Thank you!“ He looked back down at the sketchpad and something in his face softened. „Thanks,“ he repeated quietly. „Wow.“ He delicately pried the top page away from the rest of the pad, which he set down on the table without looking, his eyes and smile still fixed on the piece of paper in his hand.

Steve frowned. This was a curious reaction to a simple drawing. His artistic skills weren‘t _that_ amazing.

Suddenly coming back to himself, Tony‘s expression changed from happiness to embarrassment. He coughed and looked away. „Well,“ he said awkwardly. „Uh. Thanks for this. I should get going. Lots to do. Camera software,“ he was already backing towards the door as he said this. „Sandwich,“ he added distractedly and quickly snatched his plate from the table to take it with him. „See you. Bye.“

Steve stood there feeling like a wave had broken over him. The whole exchange had taken less than two minutes but had given him a veritable adrenaline boost. He sat down gingerly and took a moment to get his breathing back under control. _Tony doesn‘t know,_ he told himself firmly. _He saw a drawing of two friends and he wanted to have it as a keepsake. There is nothing strange about that. We are friends. Best friends._

Friends kept pictures of each other. Heck, he still had a picture of Bucky on his wall.

But if it had been just that, why would Tony be so obviously embarrassed about it?

Had he seen Steve‘s true feelings in this, after all?

But if so, why then would he be so intent on keeping the drawing for himself?

Unless, of course… Steve blushed even thinking it. Was there a chance Tony had seen the same thing in the sketch that Steve had meant to put there, and _liked_ it?

Well, Captain America was nothing if not brave bordering on reckless.

It was time to take a risk.

 

 

Two days later, he knocked on Tony‘s workshop door with seven paper sheets in his hand.

„Hu-hin!“

A man who had never entered an engineer‘s workshop might not have recognized these words as „come in“. Steve was not such a man. Sure enough, the first thing he saw when he opened the door and entered was Tony kneeling on the floor next to an upright Iron Man armor with nails in his mouth and a hammer in his hands.

„What are you doing?“ Steve would have thought that taking something as crude as nails anywhere _near_ an Iron Man armor would constitute a capital offense to Tony.

Tony spat out the nails. „Nailing Iron Man‘s ass, actually,“ he said with a dazzling, if slightly manic, grin. It added another swoop to Steve‘s already butterfly-infested stomach even before he had processed the actual words.

Then he blushed.

Tony‘s grin widened. He always seemed to enjoy making people uncomfortable. „It‘s a Mark 6. I‘m not gonna use that one ever again. But its outer shell‘s got the same composition as my current model, and I thought it might be a good idea to test the resistance to various types of force on it.“

„Ah.“ Well, that actually made sense.

„So, what can I do for you?“ Tony asked.

His stomach plummeted. Trying to read Tony‘s face was making him more nervous than Panther tanks ever had. „Uh, well. I was thinking about the drawing I gave you the other day. You know. The one of the two of us.“

Tony looked away and licked his lips. „I remember.“

Emboldened by the fact that he wasn‘t the only uncomfortable person in the room anymore, Steve ploughed on. „So I thought of some other scenes you might like, and I made you some more drawings.“ He held out the pieces of paper for Tony who took them with a confused frown. „Just, uh, tell me which ones of these you want.“

„All right,“ Tony said slowly.

„I, um, I‘m gonna go for a run,“ Steve said, jerking his thumb towards the exit. „See you later.“

He fled.

 

 

His heart was hammering in his chest.

He hadn‘t actually intended to go for a run, it had just been an excuse to leave, but now it sounded like a very good idea. Sitting around idly would do him no good with this restlessness and nervosity. Steve quickly pulled on his running shoes and left before he could run into any resident Avenger who might ask him why he looked as though he‘d just wrestled the Hulk.

The pounding of his feet on the pavement was calming for his body but not enough to quiet his racing mind. He thought about the sketches Tony would be looking at right now. He had spent the past few days working on them, picking and discarding ideas for different scenes, drawing more dilligently than he had in… this century, probably.

He really hoped Tony liked them.

And he really, really hoped he wasn‘t wrong about this.

The first picture was set in Tony‘s workshop. Different tools in each hand, Tony‘s arms were spread and his mouth opened. He was clearly in the middle of a passionate lecture about something or other. Steve himself was sitting on the small couch Tony kept in the room, his sketchpad in hand, but all of his amused focus was on what Tony was saying.

The next picture was of them fighting back to back. Steve was swinging his shield upward to knock out a masked Hydra goon, his teeth gritted with the exertion. Facing away from him, Iron Man fired a repulsor ray from his left gauntlet.

The next sketch had them sitting in a café of sorts, across from each other at a small round table. Two identical tall glasses of milkshakes between them, they were sucking their drinks through identical straws. Steve‘s hand was lightly touching Iron Man‘s gauntlet as he smiled at the impassive faceplate.

The next was a close-up of the two of them kissing. Tony was not in the armor in this one, instead wearing a simple shirt and tie and a lovely blush on his one visible cheek. Their eyes were closed. Steve had one hand in Tony‘s hair, Tony had one hand curled around the back of Steve‘s neck. Once Tony reached this one, the case was probably settled. But Steve hadn‘t been able to resist producing just a few more scenes. For variety, he told himself. Nothing else.

In the next drawing, they were sitting on the couch of the mansion‘s main living room. Although the object of their focus was out of sight, it was probably the TV. Steve was gesturing wildly at it in obvious annoyance, while Tony, his side pressed against Steve‘s and his arm around Steve‘s shoulders, seemed to be trying hard not to grin.

The next drawing was, well, pornographic. Steve and Tony in bed, clearly naked and sweating, Tony staring up at his lover with a breathless smile. Having drawn an excessive number of erotic sketches in his time, and of Tony in particular, Steve had decided in the interest of delicacy to censor the bottom half on this one – they were covered in a flimsy sheet from the waist down – but there was no plausible deniability left at all on what they were doing.

The last picture was harmless in comparison. They were both much older in this one, their faces lined and Tony‘s hair going decidedly grey (so was Steve‘s, probably, but it wasn‘t like you could tell in a black and white drawing). Sitting at a breakfast table, a gently sloping countryside just visible in through the window behind them, Tony was reaching over with a fork to steal some scrambled eggs from Steve‘s plate.

He wasn‘t sure if that last one was too much.

Heck, he wasn‘t sure if _most of them_ were too much.

This might be the end of… everything.

He slowed.

His feet had carried him along his usual track into Central Park without his conscious thought. Now that his heart had slowed to a more regular rhythm, running didn‘t seem so important anymore. The anxiety, no longer a jittery restlessness, suddenly felt like a leaden weight on him instead. He slumped down on a park bench, wondering where he had ever found the energy to run at all.

What had he done? Tony was going to look at these sketches and _know_.

He could picture him raising his dark eyebrows at the first couple of drawings and then letting his jaw drop at the last ones. He would be shocked.  
Or... maybe he wouldn‘t be surprised at all. Maybe Tony had known all along how Steve felt. Maybe he had never said anything because he hadn‘t wanted to have to hurt Steve‘s feelings.

And now Steve was forcing his hand. He would go back home where Tony would break his heart and would feel obliged to be _nice_ about it. To let him down gently.

Steve swallowed.

Maybe it wasn‘t even too late yet? Maybe he could run home, burst into Tony‘s workshop and take the sketches back before Tony even got a look at them? The trouble was that with this dead weight pressing down on him, _running_ currently didn‘t seem like a viable option. Instead, he felt more like walking home in a long, meandering line, possibly mapping all of Manhattan before facing Tony at all. Or ever again. Or just sitting on a park bench for the forseeable future. That seemed like a good plan.

His identicard beeped, making him jump. With shaking hands, he pulled it out.

If he was lucky, it was only a supervillain burning down DC.

But nope, it was a message from Tony.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at it properly.

_Any of them. All of them. Come back RIGHT NOW. Please._

His face broke into a wide grin. His energy suddenly returning, Steve sprinted home at a speed only a happily infatuated supersoldier could muster.


End file.
